


There's a First Time For Everything

by CrosbyOshieKaneToews



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3474341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrosbyOshieKaneToews/pseuds/CrosbyOshieKaneToews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Abandoned work: will not be updated* Patrick gets injured in a game, and Johnathan takes care of him. But is the injury worse than what they originally thought?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Game Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Kaner's recent injury, even though it's in a different injury, but I know nothing about clavicles, so I improvised. :)

I hear it before I see it. The crack of someone's body hitting the boards at an angle that it shouldn't bend. Patrick, sprawled out on the ice, is laying in the corner right behind the goal line. My first instinct is to panic. When it comes to Patrick, and something being wrong, the first thing I always do is panic. The play was happening at the other end of the rink, so I had three fourths of the ice to sprint before I got to him. Thank god for skates or that would've taken a lot longer.

You know that saying that hockey players don't cry? Yeah well that's total bullshit. Sliding in next to Patrick, I kneel down in an attempt to distract him until the trainer makes it over. All I hear is muffled whimpers. Laying a hand on his back, I can feel his shoulders shaking through his gear. 

"Pat? What's up buddy? What hurts?" I prod gently. I get a muffled groan, followed by a sob, and he points to his right wrist, followed by his right elbow. "Your wrist and your elbow?" He nods, moving further into my side.

"Hey, John, I can't help him if you don't get out of my way." One of the trainers grabs my shoulder. I rise back to my skates, but refuse to go away completely. There is no way in hell I'm leaving him right now. Worry begins to fill my mind as I watch the suddenly small blond boy shift, with help, onto his knees. I move to stand in front of him, making sure the cameras can't see his face. The last thing he needs right now is to end up on YouTube like Oshie did when they were freezing his hand. Hockey players are supposed to be these big, tough guys, but we feel pain just like everyone else. The last thing Kaner needed right now was for the media to see that this was enough to bring a few tears to his eyes. Even though it would be enough to make any normal human shed a few tears. 

"Johnny?" Pat gulps.

"Yeah, what's up?"

This isn't good." He mumbles before slowly getting to his feet, laboring his way to the bench and through to the locker room. Now we have to win this game. We have to win it for Patrick.

The team gathers at the bench, and Coach Q decides on a line change. Hopping the boards, I take my seat on the bench. The third period only has two minutes left, and we're up by one, but all I can think about is whether or not Kaner is okay. I mean, injuries happen, but Pat is my best friend.The last thing I need is something bad to happen.

There's thirty seconds left on the clock and we're still up by one. Saader steals the puck from Jokinen and skates it up to center, passing it to Sharpie who slides it into the offensive zone. Shapie passes it back to Saader, who one times it past the goalie! The buzzer sounds immediately after the goal, and the rest of the team rushes out on the ice to celebrate. Everyone but me. I swing my legs over the bench and bolt down the tunnel and into the locker room to find Pat. Chucking my helmet, gloves and stick into my stall, I swing myself around the corner and into the trainers room. Patrick is sitting on the exam table, right arm limp in his lap, left hand scrubbing at his eyes. The trainer starts trying to move his arm and he whimpers. I approach where he's sitting on the table and lay a hand on his shoulder. Glancing up at me, Patrick completely loses it.

"It hurts. It really really hurts. I can't do this! I can't go without hockey!" He chokes out between sobs.

"Pat, shhh..." I attempt. "It's okay. It won't be for long. You've done it before, you can do it again." I pull him into me for a hug and he melts into my side, calming slightly. I begin rubbing slow circles into his back in an attempt to calm him further. The trainer walks back in with one of the team doctors, but they pause as they enter the room, all eyes focused on the two of us.

"I just want to play hockey, and it really hurts, and I don't want to have to sit out." Kaner buries his face into my shoulder, letting out a muffled "I'm scared..." That's when the trainer and doctor decide to wander over.

"Nothing to be scared about. All I have to do is set the bones in your wrist and elbow, put a cast on your wrist, and get your arm in a sling and you'll be one hundred percent in no time!" Pat looks horrified at the idea of letting the doctor set the bones in his arm. "Tazer, go get your gear off, he's fine on his own for the moment."

This man has got to be kidding. We've been joined at the hip sice Pat got drafted. Like this weird old dude really thinks I'm just going to leave Patrick. "I'm not kidding. Go."

I grumble something along the lines of "doctors are assholes" and leave the room, stripping the top half of my gear off as I go. By the time I make it from the trainers room to the locker room I'm carrying my jersey, chest protector, and elbow pads. Slamming myself into my stall, I start untying my skates to remove the bottom half of my equipment.

"Dude, we won. Stop throwing a bitch fit and at least pretend your happy about it." A ball of tape comes flying past my face and I shoot Shapie enough of a glare to shut him up.

Duncan sits down next to me. "John, He's going to be ok. I promise. Yeah, he's in pain right now, but he will get better."

"I know. I just... I don't like seeing him, or any of you, in pain."

"You react different when it's Pat. You always have. Yeah, you take care of the rest of us, but with Patrick it's always been different."

"I'm going to go shower." I grunt.

By the time that I get my gear put away and shower, Kaner is back sitting in his stall, cast and sling in place. I walk over to check on him, and before I can sit down next to him, he mutters a "Is there any chance I could stay with you tonight?"


	2. Taking Care of Kaner

I climb in the car and look over at Patrick sitting in the passenger seat. He glances over at me, and then at the seatbelt that has yet to be buckled. I get back out of the drivers side and walk around to where Pat is sitting, opening the door. I grab the seatbelt and lean over Patrick, buckling his seatbelt, before walking back around to my side and getting in.

"Thanks John." Pat mumbles.

"Sorry. I didn't realize the seat belt would be a problem. How's the arm?" I start the car and begin driving to my place.

"Still hurts, but they gave me some hard core pain medicine. When they set my arm... It was terrifying. The cracking sound it made... And the pain... I thought I was going to throw up it hurt so badly. The pain meds are in the front pocket of my duffle bag by the way."

"The doctors didn't want me in the room, did they?"

"No. They didn't want you to have to see it."

By this point I'm pulling into the driveway. I know I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it, but I would have liked to try. I hear the snap of a seat belt and Kaner buckles forward, groaning. And of course, once again, I freak out. My hand shoots out to rest on his back. "Patrick? Kaner, what's wrong?"

"Seatbelt... Elbow... Gimme a second..." He grunts. I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger side, opening the door. He's clutching at his injured arm with his head resting on the dashboard.

"Kaner, maybe we should-"

"Shh... John... Need a second... Standing and pain is going to end up with dizziness." That's a little strange. It's his arm that he's hurt, how will standing make that worse?

"What if I carry you? Or at least let you lean on me?" I offer. Pat sits up and gives me a strange look. His face is oddly pale, but his cheeks are a bright red.

"Yeah, yeah. Probably a good idea." He says, reaching his arms out like a toddler that wants to be held. I slide an arm behind his back, and another under his legs, and slowly lift him out of the car. He isn't very heavy, but Kaner would probably seem heavier to a non hockey player. Thank god I didn't lock the door when I left this afternoon or this would have been a lot more complicated.

Laying Patrick on the couch, I head back out to grab our bags. When I walk back in the house, I hear a small "Uh, Johnny? I need you..." Everything in my arms hits the floor and I bolt into the living room. "My head kind of hurts." I gently place my hand on his forehead. Not warm.

"You aren't warm. I think you've just had a rough day. Why don't you try and sleep a little while I make dinner?"

"M'kay." he mumbles. I go into the hall closet and grab a blanket, and by the time I get back to where Pat is laying on the couch, he snoring lightly. I cover him up with a blanket and he curls up even more, bad arm still tucked into his chest.

Once in the kitchen, I begin making soup. It's all I can come up with that doesn't involve more than one piece of silverware. Carrots, chicken chunks, noodles, and some chicken broth get thrown in the pot, and I start to stir. About thirty minutes later, the soup is done, and I spoon it into two bowls, carrying them out into the living room.

"Peeks, wake up, dinner."

"Buttface."

"Excuse me? Who made you food? Who slaved over the hot stove for an hour? Who's house are you sleeping at tonight. Who's-" Is that whimpering? Shit.

 "Patrick, shh. I was messing with you. It's okay!" I pull him into a hug and he starts full on sobbing. 

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be annoying." 

"Pat, eat your soup and you can go back to sleep." I hand him the bowl of soup and he begins to gulp it down, finding before I even have the chance to get the first spoon in my mouth.

"John, I'm out soup." 

"Did you want more?" 

"No." 

"Well okay then." 

"I'm going to bed. Are my shirt and sweatpants still in the guest room?" 

"Yeah, Pat. What else would I do with them?" 

"Thanks." 

He gets up and wanders down the hall and into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind him. I get up and place the soup bowls in the sink, and head into my room, giving on the tv. 

Why is my phone ringing? The alarm clock on my nightstand says 4:15. Why is my phone ringing at 4am? And why does it say Patrick? Isn't he downstairs? 

"Why didn't you just come upstairs and-" 

"Help? Please?" Mumbles a weak voice. Well shit. 

I'm down stairs in about thirty seconds flat, searching for Pat. I find him in the bathroom, hunched over the toilet. It looks like his dinner has made a reappearance. If it was the food, wouldn't I have felt sick by now too? I mean, he was really moody earlier. And he had that dizzy spell in the car. And he said his head... Oh. Oh god. 

"Peeks? Did you hit your head when you went down during the game?" I ask.

"I... I don't know. I don't... Do I have a concussion?" At least we're thinking the same thing. 

"I'm calling the doctor. I don't care if it's 4am I'm calling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to make soup, and have honestly never tried, so just roll with it... 
> 
> P.S. I'm still adding more to this, it's just difficult when a 40lb pitbull wants to use you as a jungle gym. Which is also why I'm doing this in chapters and not just posting the whole thing.
> 
> PPS, comments and kudos are much appreciated


	3. Concussion Symptoms

Okay, I understand that its like 2am, but you'd think one of the doctors would answer their phones when I'm hitting redial every ten seconds. Kaner is still hunched over the toilet, although no longer throwing up for the moment, but it would be nice to get a doctor or someone on the phone to tell me what to do. I give up on the phone for the moment and go sit on the floor next to Pat, laying a gentle hand on his back. He must've taken than as an okay to crawl in my lap, because that's exactly what he does. He crawls up into my lap with his head on my shoulder. He falls back asleep in my lap almost instantly. Who knows how long he's been awake. My phone starts to buzz on the counter above my head and I snatch at it. 

"Hello?" I try to answer without waking Kaner up.

"Hey, Johnny, is something wrong? It's two am." Thank god one of the trainers finally woke up.

"Yeah, uh, Patrick is throwing up, well he was a few minutes ago, and when we went to get out of the car earlier he got dizzy enough for me to have to carry him inside, and doesn't remember much of getting off the ice after the hit, and he's been really lethargic. He said he may have hit his head but he doesn't rememeber enought to say weather he did or not." I spit out all at once.

"Is he okay right now?"

"Yeah, he's asleep in my lap."

"Do you think you can take care of him through the night? If he has a concussion it seems fairly mild, so I don't think he needs to be rushed to the hospital."

"Yeah I can handle him, I just didn't know if he needed a doctor right this second."

"No, it doesn't sound like it, but bring him in first thing in the morning, or as soon as he wakes up tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks!"

"No problem, John."

I hang up and chuck the phone back onto the bathroom counter. Pat is sleeping with me tonight wheather he likes it or not. I scoop him up and make it halfway down the hallway before hearing a panicked "Johnny! I'm gunna..." From Patrick in my arms before being covered in vomit. Fantastic. This is kind of really disgusting. It's all over him, and all down the front of my shirt. Making it the last five steps into my room, I set Pat on my bed and start digging through my dresser. I hand him a clean tshirt before grabbing one for myself. My vomit covered shirt gets chucked in the corner to be dealt with tomorrow, and I turn to Patrick. He's full out sobbing. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just woke up and it happened and I tried to warn you but I couldn't even finish warning you before yacking all over you. I'm sorry." He sobs.

"Peeks, shh, it's alright. You couldn't help it. There was nothing you could do. Now let's get this nasty shirt off of you, and then I'll go grab a trash can to put by the bed for when you need it. You're sleeping in here tonight." I leave the room to go find the bathroom trash can to set next to what is now Patrick's side of the bed, and when I come back he's changed shirts and crawled into bed. I set the trash can down on his side, walk around the bed, and crawl in bed next to him. He almost immediately curls up against my chest, and I begin to hear light snoring. "It's okay honey, I've got you, I promise." I whisper in his hear before falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for taking so long, and sorry it's so short. Trying to give you something to tide you over until the next time I have a few minutes of free time. I'm Currently in college so my free time is limited, but feedback is much appreciated and comments are read, I promise!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more to this, just haven't written it yet.....


End file.
